Sing soft. Sing loud. It remains so.
If the Lady lifts her hand, does the Beast speak petals...
With hand by her side, does the Beast speak dust...
For we all hear dust.
Do we ever hear petals?
Oh priest, what have you done by corrugating belief...
What have you done with the Garden?
The Lady spreads her robes, anointing the Beast
With female rust,
Soothing men and gods alike
With Floods of torchlit groves...
Fruit annihilates flowers that gave them life.
The pomegranate survived to destroy.
Oh priest, what have you done by castrating belief...
Why did you destroy the Garden
With scaled angels?
Listen softly. Hear loudly.
The Beast speaks petals
For the winds...
It remains so.
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